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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25701214">loft music</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account'>orphan_account</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Criminal Minds (US TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe, M/M, lots of italics bc thats just. how i roll baby</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 08:27:43</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,493</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25701214</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>in which the bau throws aaron a surprise birthday party and hires a stripper, spencer.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aaron Hotchner/Spencer Reid</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>122</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. INT.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>i wrote this in one sitting and. did not read through it or even look at it again<br/>this is from a prompt generator idk i liked the Concept™</p><p>lowercase cuz i was feelin sad</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p> </p><p>aaron hotchner rarely celebrated his birthday.</p><p>he had a strict <em>no gifts</em> and<em> definitely no parties</em> policy, which he always stuck to (although every year, without fail, penelope would bring him a chocolate-glazed donut with a bright pink novelty birthday-cake candle, and he just <em>couldn't</em> say no to that).</p><p>today had been no different: donut, birthday-cake candle, not much else. he fishes his keys from his pocket, scrubs a hand down his face. it was late; he had stayed behind to catch up on some paperwork from today's case despite everyone else's protesting (<em>"hotch, it's your </em>birthday<em>, go home - or go out, do </em>something, <em>at least!"</em>).</p><p>he'd long since stopped thinking of november 2nd as some <em>special day that </em>needed<em> to be celebrated</em>;he was more than okay with spending his evening doing paperwork and he'd told everyone just that, though that statement had elicited a sarcastic laugh coupled with a "sure, boss," from both penelope and derek.</p><p>his apartment is dark, and the soft moonlight filtering in from the window, illuminating the empty room <em>just enough</em>, was the only reason he hadn't tripped and injured himself yet.  </p><p>he sets his keys down. exhales. checks his watch. maybe, he thinks, the whole reason he'd spent his night at work was because he <em>knew</em> he'd be coming home to an empty apartment, no one to celebrate with even if he <em>wanted</em> to - jack was at haley's tonight, and aaron had even called her earlier this morning to ask if he could see him later, only for it to go straight to voicemail. and then they'd gotten a case, so really, he had no time to check his phone anyway. now it was just too late.</p><p>he slips his shoes off and turns on the lights, and then the next thing he knows, garcia is jumping out from around the corner and screaming "surprise!" at him. everyone else is right behind her, wearing big grins and laughing while swirling shot glasses. there's a cake sitting on the table that he's <em>sure</em> was baked by penelope, if the pink frosting and rainbow-colored sprinkles were any indication.</p><p>aaron takes a moment to let his heart rate return to normal before speaking. "this is very nice, but... but this isn't necessary. really, you didn't have to—"</p><p>prentiss rolls her eyes and groans, cutting him off. "oh, <em>shut up</em>. have some <em>fun</em> for <em>once</em>!"</p><p>"how did you all get in my apartment?" he asks slowly, raises an eyebrow.</p><p>garcia rushes over and hands him a shot. she's already had a few (or more than a few, judging from the pink tinge to her cheeks, aaron notes). "that's, um... not important, sir. what's important is that we are <em>here</em> and we are <em>going</em> to celebrate your birthday whether you <em>like it </em>or <em>not</em>!"  </p><p>"happy birthday, aaron," dave laughs. </p><p>he only stands there and glares at his coworkers until suddenly he can't fight it anymore and he's <em>grinning</em>. grinning. it's ridiculous, honestly. he downs his shot, cinnamon schnapps; morgan claps him on the shoulder. </p><p>jj cuts into the cake, passing out paper plates and plastic forks. aaron reaches for another shot (what the hell, right?) when penelope's phone buzzes, and she gasps, "oh! entertainment's almost here!"</p><p>he freezes, edge of the shot glass pressed firmly against his bottom lip. he lowers it. "penelope...?"</p><p>she wordlessly shoots him a look, and he's sitting there silently, too, and he can't quite figure out its meaning. derek is grinning. something about it all is just a little unsettling. nerve-wracking. </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>there's a knock at the door. loud, sharp.</p><p>aaron sets his shot glass down and moves to stand up but penelope <em>insists</em> that she's got it, so he doesn't argue and stays where he is (there's no point in arguing with penelope, he's learned). he can't quite see who's at the door from where he's sitting, and he'd very much like to know <em>who</em> penelope had invited over to <em>his apartment</em>, so he cranes his neck, trying to get a glimpse of whoever it is.</p><p>he can vaguely make out a mess of curly, cinnamon-brown hair. penelope stays there, standing in the doorframe and talking, for a couple minutes.</p><p>and then the chatter filling the room falls silent and penelope announces, "this is my friend, spencer, and he's here to... well, <em>you'll</em> <em>see</em>."</p><p>her lips are pursed as she turns the lights off. aaron swallows what's left of his shot.</p><p>(he had stopped counting them a while ago.)</p><p>spencer with the cinnamon curls walks over, stops right in front of him. he's wearing eyeshadow (which aaron just barely catches under the low lighting) and what looks like a layer of rosy-pink blush dusts the apples of his cheeks. "you're aaron?"</p><p>aaron looks up. "yes—"</p><p>"well, happy birthday," he smiles, voice drowned out by the music that was coming from—<em>somewhere</em>. he's wearing some skimpy outfit, highlighting his thin waist, and he makes himself comfortable on aaron's lap. everyone cheers.</p><p>"oh," aaron hesitates, attempts to glare at penelope and—well, <em>everyone</em>, since they were in on this too, from the looks of it, but realistically all he can concentrate on is <em>spencer</em>. his curls brush against aaron's cheek, eyes dark and lashes thick with a coat of mascara. "penelope, uh, spencer... sorry, but no thank you, i'm going to have to decline."</p><p>and spencer pouts at that—actually <em>pouts</em>, and penelope is screaming <em>something</em> in the background but it's all starting to sound muffled. for a moment, aaron is hypnotized by the gloss on spencer's lips.</p><p>"oh." spencer says. looks around the room. he's still sitting on aaron's lap, teeth buried in his lower lip, studying him. he stands up. "okay. then i guess i'll-"</p><p>there's a pause.</p><p>aaron lifts a shot glass to his lips, tips his head back, and then gives in surprisingly fast. "wait."</p><p>spencer smiles, straddling aaron's lap again.</p><p>aaron rests his hands on either side of spencer's waist, shifting in his seat. and then spencer is grinding his hips to the dreamy beat of the music, grinning down at aaron, breathing hot and heavy and close to his ear. aaron can feel his face turning red.</p><p>spencer had lost his shirt, aaron notices. he can't pinpoint exactly <em>when</em> that had happened. but now the music is fading out, and it's quiet for a split second before another beat is filtering through the room. spencer continues to move his hips, intentionally pressing his body against the quite obvious bulge in aaron's pants. aaron grips the sofa with one hand, the other still denting into spencer's waist, letting out a small gasp. </p><p>he can feel everyone staring at him, at <em>them. </em></p><p>he clears his throat. spencer's head is buried in the crook of his neck. "uh, prentiss, garcia, dave, everyone—maybe you all should head home, i can call a cab. thank you for the... party. it's - very much appreciated."</p><p>derek's eyebrows shoot up, a knowing smirk on his lips. "oh, no, i've got it all taken care of. you just enjoy yourself, hotch."</p><p>penelope's mouth falls open, jj and emily only laugh as they both stand up.</p><p>aaron focuses all his attention back on spencer, fights a moan because what spencer is doing feels <em>fantastic</em>, and—<em>jesus, are they gone yet?</em></p><p>spencer's lips, <em>teeth</em> graze aaron's neck. he looks over to the front door, impatient, as spencer grinds down on him. spencer reaches behind him and grabs a shot for himself, swallowing its contents in a single, smooth sip. aaron is so distracted by the sight of <em>those </em>lips around <em>that</em> glass he barely notices anything else; he thinks he can hear penelope laughing, saying something to jj—<em>so they are still here</em>-</p><p>he moves a hand to spencer's hair, fingers catching on tangled locks. he doesn't think he can wait any longer, so he whispers, "let's go to my bedroom, i'd like a private dance."</p><p>"show me the way." spencer's lips part into a smile. </p><p>spencer laughs, breathy, when aaron picks him up, wraps his legs around aaron's waist. he makes sure to lock the door behind them. from there it's all low lights, spencer's back hitting the wall, lip-shaped bruises on necks, clothes tossed haphazardly on the floor. </p><p>they stumble over to the bed, aaron struggling with the knot in his tie. spencer is on his lap again, swaying his hips and dipping his head down to kiss aaron. </p><p>"there's... in the drawer..." aaron gestures to the nightstand adjacent to his bed. spencer happily gets up. </p><p>once he's back, aaron bends him over the edge of the bed. he grips spencer's hips hard enough to leave marks, and tugs his pants down his thighs. </p><p>"fuck me already," spencer is whining, and with a voice like that, <em>how can aaron say no?  </em></p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>aaron wakes up late. it's rare that he's able to do so; days where he wasn't woken up at 2 am because of a new case were few and far between, so he savors every moment of it. </p><p>he's got a bit of a headache but it's nothing an advil or two won't fix. he rolls over, stretches, and is met with... someone. in his bed, next to him. someone he doesn't remember. this someone's got a head full of cinnamon curls and smudged makeup on his eyes, and aaron racks his brain but he just <em>can't</em> piece any of last night's events together. </p><p>"good morning," the stranger says, gives aaron a sleepy smile. sunlight seeps in through the window and he looks almost... <em>angelic </em>lying there, basking in the golden rays. </p><p>"i-" aaron chuckles, a little nervous. there's no way to say this without sounding like a total dick, so he just says it: "i'm sorry, but i seem to have forgotten your name."</p><p>"spencer," he lets out a laugh and runs a hand through his tangled, slept-on hair, "do you remember anything that happened last night?" </p><p>aaron shakes his head apologetically.</p><p>"well..." spencer starts, a slow smile spreading across his face, "how about i remind you?"</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. LO-FI</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>i wrote this for the one (1) person who asked for more......... :-) i do be havin fun writing this tho, ngl</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>aaron sees spencer again a few nights later.</p>
<p>after he finished his case report (which he, admittedly, had rushed through),and everyone else had left, he'd asked garcia for the name and address of the club spencer worked at. and she had given it to him—after a few minutes of her just <em>sitting there</em>, silent, and staring at him in shock with her jaw hanging open, that is.</p>
<p>("garcia, please," he had said. "keep this between us, if you can.")</p>
<p>she gave him a look and swore that<em> she'd try her absolute hardest. </em>he thanked her without looking her in the eyes, his face an embarrassing shade of red. </p>
<p>and then he drove from quantico to d.c. and found himself standing outside of a place called heaven (<em>and</em> <em>how fitting</em>, aaron thinks, <em>is it</em> <em>that he works at a club called heaven</em>). he's still dressed in his work clothes, too, though he <em>had</em> been smart enough to at least leave his badge behind in his car.</p>
<p>only a few people are waiting to get in, a small crowd lined up in front of him. a bouncer guards the door with a spent cigarette in his hand and a weary expression on his face. he grinds the cigarette butt into the concrete and aaron watches the couple in front of him get patted down. it's a thursday night, and it's freezing outside.</p>
<p>the club, however, radiates heat - it's small on the inside but it's packed full. there's an island in the middle of the main room, poles lined up neatly. it's the first thing aaron notices. against the back wall is a traditional style bar, bottles lining shelves behind the counter. three people are sitting at the counter; the rest of the club's patrons are gathered around the men dancing in the center. the bartender looks painfully bored, his cheek resting on the heel of his palm and his eyes threatening to glaze over.</p>
<p>aaron weaves his way through the thick crowd, feeling a little out of place. he makes it to the bar and sits down, orders himself a drink (<em>might as well</em>, he reasons). everything is bathed in a neon-pink glow, and the bartender waltzes away after promising aaron he'll <em>be</em> <em>back in a second </em>with his martini, <em>so don't go anywhere! </em></p>
<p>aaron turns, looks over to the island while he waits, and his breath catches in his throat when his eyes land on spencer. <em>spencer</em>, who is wearing next to nothing, only a pair of lacy, pink panties and high heels to match. that same rosy blush is on his flushed cheeks, and a film of sweat glistens on his chest.</p>
<p>he looks <em>gorgeous</em> up there, a vision under neon-pink.</p>
<p>aaron is so busy staring he doesn't notice the bartender had finished mixing his drink and then slid said drink across the counter. the glass was foggy, droplets of water rolling down the sides and pooling at the bottom where the curved edges met the worn wood of the countertop.</p>
<p>he gets up in a hurry, puts some money down on the counter to cover his martini, and joins the crowd around the island.</p>
<p>he can't take his eyes off of spencer<em> -</em> his long, thin legs, plush lips, lights highlighting his profile - he swallows hard and sips his drink. it tastes watered down, cheap. </p>
<p>his phone buzzes and he reluctantly reaches for it. it's a text from penelope that reads <em>having fun?</em> and aaron ignores it, even though he knows full well that penelope will let him <em>have it</em> tomorrow.</p>
<p>he tucks his phone back in his pocket and lifts his eyes back up to the island.</p>
<p>the music fades, is replaced with something much softer, bleary synth beats now thrumming through the speakers. the lights dim, too; the dancers walk off-stage, some fanning themselves and others guzzling down bottled water.</p>
<p>"aaron?" spencer calls, slightly out of breath. he's holding a lit cigarette between his index and middle fingers, and he's in heels that make him look impossibly tall but he doesn't <em>walk</em> like it; he walks like a pro, which, aaron muses, he <em>is</em>.</p>
<p>aaron grins.</p>
<p>"spence," the nickname rolls off his tongue before he can stop it - and it's comfortable, <em>familiar</em>, like he's used it a thousand times over.</p>
<p>"what are you doing here?" spencer asks through a cloud of smoke, seeming genuinely surprised to see him. his hair is a tangled mess, loose strands matted to his sweaty forehead, and he attempts to awkwardly cover his chest with his arms.</p>
<p>(only his arms are like noodles; it doesn't do much.)</p>
<p>spencer raises his eyebrows expectantly, and - <em>yes, that's</em> <em>right, </em>spencer had asked him a question. aaron had been, once again, too distracted by his lips and the makeup smudged on his eyelids.</p>
<p>"enjoying the show," aaron says after a beat. he lifts a shoulder into an easy shrug, picks up his dewy martini glass. "come here."</p>
<p>spencer does. he sits right on aaron's lap like he <em>belongs</em> <em>there</em> and takes another pull from his cigarette. the smell of tobacco, nicotine, slowly washes over them. aaron's hands trail down spencer's bare back and he watches as spencer's painted lips part into a perfectly shaped <em>o. </em>spencer's eyes are shut, goosebumps are on his skin, and every thought that crosses aaron's mind next is downright<em> filthy.</em></p>
<p>"i'm off in thirty," spencer glances at a clock hung crooked on the wall. he's biting down on his lower lip when he looks back over to aaron. "would you like to, um, come to my place after?"</p>
<p>"yes," aaron immediately nods. it seems like he can't get the words out fast enough.<br/><br/><br/></p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p><br/><br/><br/>spencer's apartment is — it's safe to say — not at all what aaron was expecting. it's a second-floor apartment in the heart of the city, overlooking winking d.c., and it consists of a rather empty-looking kitchenette (the only item sitting on the countertop is a coffee machine), a small bathroom to the right, and a dark leather couch in the center of the room. directly ahead is another door that leads to spencer's bedroom.</p>
<p>it's small, and it's <em>cluttered</em>, with green walls and well-loved books strewn about everywhere. their pages are dog-eared and highlighted, copious notes scrawled in the margins. again. not what aaron was expecting.</p>
<p>"i... i'm <em>so</em> sorry," spencer hesitates, visibly embarrassed as he looks around, "i don't really get a lot of visitors, actually i <em>never</em> do, i should've cleaned up more before i left—"</p>
<p>aaron chuckles. "it's fine, spence."</p>
<p>(although he still rushes to clean up, and aaron only smiles and tells him he doesn't need to, <em>it's fine</em>.)</p>
<p>they sit on the couch. it's a little past one in the morning.</p>
<p>spencer lights another cigarette, his dark eyes drooping. he had changed out of his earlier ensemble into a hoodie and a pair of sweatpants that looked<em> just as good</em> on him as the panties and the heels did. he taps ashes into a glass ashtray.</p>
<p>"tired?" aaron asks softly.</p>
<p>spencer smiles around the cigarette in his mouth. "only a little."<br/><br/><br/><br/><br/></p>
<p>they fuck until spencer is a writhing, gasping mess underneath him. aaron pins spencer's wrists above his head, holds them there tightly (<em>there will probably be bruises left behind</em>, aaron thinks guiltily), and watches as spencer squeezes his eyes shut, dark eyeshadow creased on his eyelids.</p>
<p>"aaron," he pants, breathy and <em>desperate</em> and like music to aaron's ears, "aaron - <em>aaron</em>, fuck, i'm—!"</p>
<p>his face is flushed a bright red when he comes, his chest heaving and his eyes still closed. aaron can't help but moan at the sight of him, and then <em>just like that</em>, he's mumbling out spencer's name as he fills spencer up.</p>
<p>afterwards, they lie there. aaron has his arms around spencer and it's <em>nice</em>, even if it is only for tonight.</p>
<p>(some part of him, a part deep down, hopes it won't be.)<br/><br/><br/><br/><br/></p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>"you know, i have three doctorates," spencer tells him over a cup of coffee (which he had added a <em>ridiculous</em> amount of sugar and vanilla creamer to), early in the morning. they're sitting on either side of spencer's kitchen table.</p>
<p>spencer pushes his glasses up so they rest higher on the bridge of his nose. his eyes don't meet aaron's.</p>
<p>"that's," aaron pauses, sits there speechless for a moment. "spencer, that's incredible. and you're... how old?"</p>
<p>"24." he says. and then, quickly: "this wasn't my first career choice."</p>
<p>aaron frowns, staring at the remnants of last night's makeup smeared on spencer's lash line, leftover lipstick clinging to his chapped lips. spencer opens his mouth, shuts it equally as fast, and then opens it again. nothing comes out.</p>
<p>aaron has a feeling there's <em>more</em> to that, more spencer has left unsaid, but he doesn't want to pry—he hardly <em>knows</em> spencer.</p>
<p>he looks out the window, past the top of spencer's head, at the sleeping city beneath them. the sun hasn't risen yet, leaving the inside of spencer's apartment a dull blue that feels almost post-apocalyptic. aaron checks his watch; <em>4:57 a.m. </em></p>
<p>"what was?" he asks eventually, then clears his throat before he clarifies. "what was your first choice?"</p>
<p>"um," he laughs, "i've always wanted to join the fbi, actually..."</p>
<p>"i can see that," aaron says.</p>
<p>"you can?" spencer looks up at him, smiling for the first time this morning. the circles under his eyes are intense, dark. "even with... my, um, <em>job</em> now?"</p>
<p>aaron nods.</p>
<p>"yes. i can." and he means it.</p>
<p>they lapse into a relaxed silence until aaron's phone rings. aaron glances at the caller id and when he sees that it's jj, he swears under his breath. "sorry... it's, uh, work—hello? jj?"</p>
<p>"hotch," jj says on the other end. "we've got a case, it sounds kinda urgent... can you get here in 30?"</p>
<p>"i think i can manage that."</p>
<p>
  <em>dial-tone.</em>
</p>
<p>"you're leaving?" spencer asks.</p>
<p>"unfortunately, yes, i have to," aaron stands up, gulping down what little is left of his coffee. he suddenly feels exhausted.</p>
<p>"do you think i could... um," spencer hesitates, rushes to stand up also, "see you again sometime, maybe?"</p>
<p>"i'd like that."</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>bro it is.... SO fucking weird using "aaron" instead of "hotch" </p>
<p>i'll continue this if anyone wants me to, ive got a few ideas but they're kinda vague so, idk, lmk i guess and we'll see </p>
<p>as always like comet and survive</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. XO TOUR Llif3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>hello!! i wrote this like 2 wks ago while in a hotel room. idk. if it doesn't make sense that's why :•)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>eight-thirty.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>eight-thirty on a friday night and aaron is spending it alone and in his office, staring at drab, beige walls to avoid dealing with the stack of paperwork on his desk for just a little longer. he's been putting it off for a week now (work, fatigue, not having any time). he rubs the back of his neck, winces at the unexpected pain. his muscles are tight, knotted - probably from stress.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>he lets his eyes close for a minute. the room is lit a dull yellow from the old lamp in the corner, the night sky a harsh blue-black.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>aaron sighs, heavy, and then picks up a pen. he pulls the cap off, places it between his teeth, and his eyes wander to his watch.<em> 8:35; he might as well get this over with.</em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>he skims over the papers in front of him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>(<em>the divorce papers</em>.)</p>
<p> </p>
<p>after he’s done, he signs his name with a shaky hand at the bottom of the second page.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>the divorce had been a long time coming - it was overdue and he and haley both knew it. it didn't surprise aaron in the slightest when haley finally asked for one: it happened a couple weeks ago, though he remembers it like it’d been yesterday. aaron missed one of jack's doctor's appointments—one he remembers promising haley he would<em> absolutely be there for</em>, too—because he had been in some hotel room, up in new york city, fucking a guy he'd met at a bar after they closed a case a few days ago. he lied and told haley that the team had gotten caught up with a tough case—he remembers that, too. there hadn’t really been any cases that day; in fact, things were strangely slow before he left.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>(he claimed that he had a headache. he knows his team saw right through it - he’s just grateful none of them said anything.)</p>
<p> </p>
<p>haley believed him, though, because <em>why wouldn't she believe him</em>? she’d only frowned, wiped at the tears in her eyes, and angrily told aaron that jack had been asking for him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>aaron reads over the papers once more and the instant rush of relief that washes over him is nice, refreshing. it feels like a weight had been lifted off of his heavy shoulders because -</p>
<p> </p>
<p>he had been pretending for so goddamn long (<em>or maybe he'd known all along. maybe he just didn't want to admit it</em>): pretending he was happy, pretending he wanted his crumbling marriage to somehow miraculously work itself out, pretending he didn't need to take men home and fuck them just to feel satisfied and, worst of all, pretending he still loved her.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>(<em>had he ever loved her? surely there was a time he did</em>…)</p>
<p> </p>
<p>haley deserves better than him, he can't help but think. she deserves better than aaron, who brought home some pretty twink and fucked him <em>hard</em> in their bed while she was out shopping with her sister.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>(jack had been in the next room over, in the middle of his afternoon nap and sound asleep.)</p>
<p> </p>
<p>aaron, who missed jack's school play, or another one of jack's doctor's appointments, or jack's fourth birthday, for god's sake.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>(he’s lost count of how many birthdays have passed him by over the years. he tries not to think about it. sometimes it's all he <em>can</em> think about.)</p>
<p> </p>
<p>aaron, who happily chose his work over their life together because he couldn't <em>imagine</em> a life with haley anymore. he thinks he was just looking for an excuse. an easy out, because he'd hurt her so much already; he didn't want to be the one to end it all, put that final nail in the coffin.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>with something between a frown and a smile on his lips, aaron folds the papers up nice and neat, places them gently inside a manila envelope and seals it. and then he <em>sits there</em>, staring at the beige walls and surrounded by the harsh yellow light of that old lamp in the corner, alone in his office.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>he’s not sure how he feels, now that it's all said and done. signed. <em>official</em>. it’s kind-of an odd mix of solace - <em>peace, a burden he no longer needs to carry</em> - and shame. he’ll mail the papers tomorrow, he supposes.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>from his window he's able to see the city's glowing skyline, hundreds of dotted lights blurring together in the distance. it's five past nine. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>the bullpen is deserted. a ghost town of black computer screens, empty chairs and dimmed lights. everyone except aaron had turned in for the night, despite dave and penelope's pleading with him to, once again, <em>go home, for the love of god</em>.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>(as per usual. and <em>as per usual</em>, aaron hadn't listened, stubbornly shrugging them both off instead.)</p>
<p> </p>
<p>his office door shuts with a soft <em>click</em> behind him, and he stops to loosen the knot in his tie. he’s hit with the sudden realization of just how tired he is—his eyes burn every time he even so much as <em>blinks</em>.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>as tired as he is, though, he still doesn't want to go home. not yet, at least.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>and, if he can help it, not <em>alone</em>.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>he pulls his phone out of his pocket. a few notifications are waiting for him—a missed call from haley and then, subsequently, a minute-long voicemail from her (which, he tells himself, he'll listen to later). he goes to compose a new text message, his fingers floating idly over the screen of his phone. he scrolls through his contacts until he finds the name he’s looking for.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>spencer.</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>(spencer gave aaron his phone number the last time they saw each other—and aaron recalls asking him about his area code since he hadn’t recognized it. <em>las vegas</em>, aaron learned. apparently spencer grew up there.)</p>
<p> </p>
<p><em>are you working tonight?</em> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>he stares at what he'd typed for a moment before he presses send.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>spencer's reply comes in less than a minute.</p>
<p> </p>
<p><em>no, it's my day off, </em>the first message reads. and then a second one: <em>why, what did you have in mind? ... ;)</em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>aaron swallows. the implication of that last text definitely hadn't been lost on him, and while - <em>yes</em>, aaron desperately wants to drive right down to spencer's d.c. apartment and bend him over the bed, fuck him until he couldn’t walk <em>(god, does he want to)</em>, he also doesn't want to <em>just</em> fuck spencer, doesn't want spencer to think sex is all he’s after. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>(usually it would be. aaron can't figure out why everything is so different with spencer.) </p>
<p> </p>
<p><em>can i take you out? my treat</em>, he writes. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>he smiles - <em>genuinely</em>, for what feels like (and what probably <em>is</em>) the first time tonight - at spencer's answer of <em>yes :) i would love that. </em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>it's nine-fifteen when aaron finally leaves. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>sorry its been a minute!!! i've been rewatching lost and it's all i can think ab at the moment. also i kinda hate everything i've written lately including this but what's new!! i've written ahead a lil for chap 4 so HOPEFULLY it won't take as long :')</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>am i gonna regret posting this? yes am i gonna post it anyways? you betcha !!!</p><p>i promise i will write some moreid soon </p><p>remember to like comet and survive</p></blockquote></div></div>
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